


Paradox

by lololeuthanizemepls



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Ambiguous Relationships, Angst, Explicit Sexual Content, First Time, Friends to Lovers, Frottage, M/M, Making Out, Mental Instability, Slow Burn, dominant keith, klance, sex in the shower
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-30
Updated: 2019-12-30
Packaged: 2021-02-27 10:20:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,499
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22025467
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lololeuthanizemepls/pseuds/lololeuthanizemepls
Summary: Keith isn’t in the right state of mind having to fill in as leader without Shiro, and vulnerability is becoming his default. Lance only wants to help, but is torn between taking advantage of a now delicate and regressing Keith, or being a part of his growth and stability.
Relationships: Keith/Lance (Voltron), Klance - Relationship
Comments: 4
Kudos: 145





	Paradox

**Author's Note:**

> It’s been like... 3 whole ass years since I’ve done any writing haha. I’m not expecting to be on the map but, I’ve been trying to reignite my old hobbies, so here you go.

** _______________________ **

** [1145 HOURS] **

** _______________________ **

Keith was quick to anger, which was universally understood by the others. Determined, fervid with that hue of anxiety and premonition that lit his austere eyes like a beacon— coordinates that Lance knew how to follow innately. Despite their contrast being the largest, Lance felt that he knew Keith the best. However, unknown later to Lance would be the mess of a man Keith  _truly_ was behind closed doors. 

The training deck was Keith’s outlet, his coping mechanism for anger and frustration which he breathed second to oxygen. 

The latest run-in with the Galra Empire made his lust to overthrow it vicious— his own blood. Favorable outcomes as of late seemed a lot less attainable, which to him was ironic in such a diverse, expansive universe. As a Defender of the Universe, it was difficult maintaining diplomacy in his position. Impatient, scolding, impulsive, yet driven, Keith had never felt he was the optimal leader. With Shiro having been gone for too many months, Keith remained conflicted.

Of course, this had never really been said aloud, for he had the deepest idea that his rampant desires and goals would burn out and his team in the end would lose respect for him. The lives he couldn’t save, or the lives he knows he can but may not, hit his conscious stronger than his punches for Lance do in the training deck—

Lance stumbled back, Keith’s knuckle whipping his ear before another vicious low blow invades his sternum, making a percussive echo in the room.

“Fuck—“ Lance yelled as his balance fell from beneath him, his vision of a winded Keith tripled before him in the motion, and he landed on his side.

“You’re kidding me,” Keith growled, stance unwavering as if he were just changing gears to up the ante. He watched as Lance writhed on the floor, eyes pinched and mouth agape for air, “I need a better sparring partner than you.”

“H-hey,” Lance tried in between gasps, “I volunteered to help you let off steam. But I signed up for _Lucifer_ with a _mullet_ to take my soul instead apparently.” 

Lance fumbled, slow to get back on his feet. The fight was over, which knocked his ego down a few tiers, but who better to do that for him than Keith Kogane. 

“That was a solid 14 seconds flat, moron,” Keith rolled his wrist, pushing his matted bangs out of his face as if to show the disdain in his eyes. “How is a fight this easy supposed to fucking help me?”

Lance had good intentions in wanting to help Keith, far from the faux altruism he usually tried to display with him— he was trying to understand the pressure that held Keith so severe to his venom as he spoke, but he couldn’t help but retaliate, “Because you bark too much, but you talk less when you’re fighting, and that’s fucking euphoric.” 

The two always worked that way. If the other was beneath them, at least it meant one of them was on top. To Lance, this philosophy either helped him build his pride or completely cripple it. 

“You’re fucking up my sacred space,” Keith hissed, “just get the hell out.”

Lance was never skilled in handling Keith during his apoplexies that he’d been having lately. Short circuits, fuses cut short— Keith was all around impatient and difficult to deal with. It was nothing new, but before it wasn’t always genuine and intermittent. Now? It seemed debilitatingly legit when Keith would shut him down.

Lance opted for substitutes like distraction rather than words because he was awful and inept at consolation— he thought the training deck might level out their energies through adrenaline but he realized he didn’t need to occupy Keith’s space right now. He was on a seesaw of indignation but respect for Keith’s wishes.

The younger boy squeezed his sternum, watching as Keith’s face bunched up in frustration, his nose pinched in impatience. Lance knew Keith didn’t want to acknowledge or look at him anymore, but he nodded and stumbled out of the room in silence as the door locked shut behind him.

He contemplated for a bit, slow to catching his breath and processing what to do or how to help, so instead he rendered himself useless. Maybe Allura or Coran could substitute as a parental figure and find a healthier way for Keith to cope, but Lance definitely was not the answer right now.

As Lance retreated down the hallway, the sudden sound of Keith’s muffled scream from the training deck reverberated for about 3 seconds before silence stunned Lance harder. It was full of pain, frustration— some utter collapse within Keith.

Something wasn’t right.

**________________________ **

** [1930 HOURS] **

** ________________________ **

Lance knocked on the door, a quick and cautious three raps, but there was no reply. Keith was no where to be found around the Castle, and the last resort for Lance was the hangers.

It wasn’t common for Lance to visit Keith’s room in the hangers, but having been a handful of hours between the incident at the training deck probably should’ve been enough time for him to cool down, he thought, or deeply hoped really.

He waited another moment before decidedly coming into the room, which felt wrong and invasive, but the welfare of his team, his friend, was more important. He couldn’t withstand enduring the night knowing that he could’ve tried to help but didn’t.

And he was really glad that he did.

Upon walking into the room, things were noticeably awry, red-flags lit up like beacons that Keith was still not in the right state of mind. Clothes were strewn about furiously as if they were pelted at great forces. Drawers left open unevenly as if they were ripped open or slammed shut. The lights were out despite all the activity that seemed to happen in his room.

Lance was an idiot most times, but he knew to cut the shit and take initiative when it mattered. There was a horrible swell of concern for, well, the biggest asshole he knew, but he pushed aside his resentments; all  of Keith’s cards were laid out on the table. It was obvious this was a cry for help even if it wasn’t meant to be seen.

Keith wasn’t in bed, but the lights were on in the bathroom and he could hear the shower running. This was an odd time to be doing so, because it wasn’t too late in the evening or early in the afternoon.

“Keith?” his dry voice tried as he circumvented the mess on the floor towards the bathroom. 

No response, but there definitely was someone in there.

He remained guarded, was definitely past the point of concern that invasiveness did not matter. He eased his way into the bathroom, a faint and blurred outline of Keith sat in the shower inanimately. 

Lance’s shoulders dropped with a sigh of relief, knowing Keith was somewhere to be found at the least, but there were still many more things to be addressed.

“Keith...” Lance tried again. He watched as the figure in the shower seemingly became smaller; Keith’s head lay in his knees as he sat on the floor of the shower, and he pulled his knees into his chest. It was almost like he was trying to keep and pull himself together, but Lance knew otherwise.

“Hey, buddy,” Lance stood just a few feet from the shower, the water muffling his voice. He took a step forward and spoke from his diaphragm, “Look, whatever’s happening, you can talk to us about it, y’know?”

Having an unresponsive Keith was offsetting even to Lance, and it was getting harder to breathe, what with how damp the bathroom was, his being nervous, and his aching sternum came back just as an unnecessary additive to a difficult situation.

Lance stood for a few minutes in silence, give or take a couple more to wrap his head around what to do next. As brainless as he was, perhaps it wasn’t such a bad thing. In fact, it was a specialty of his depending on who would agree so, but forcing himself to think so deeply was much less useful than just jumping right into the deep end. He decided it was better to not think—  _ just do, Lance.  _

He stripped himself of his jacket and swung the shower door open. Keith was unresponsive, didn’t even acknowledge that his privacy was wholesomely invaded by  _Lance McClaine._ In fact, Keith wasn’t even  here right now. 

Lance vacuously stepped into the shower, water entirely beating on his head and taking refuge in his clothes, but he sat down in front of Keith, and put a hand on his knee, shook it once, twice. 

He inspected Keith for a minute. Everything about Keith was dissonant. His built exterior, lean and muscular couldn’t compare to how weak his mind was right now. And Lance wanted to know why. There were bruises sparsely dotting his body that were not there before just a few hours ago, as if they were self inflicted. His knuckles had scabbed, but were threatening to bleed as if they were picked on. He just looked  _ broken_. Like he had only been in here to wash away a part of himself. Lance was seeing Keith differently, with more respect.

Lance scooted aside Keith, opted to pull his arm around his shoulder and slowly pulled him in towards his chest. Keith suddenly breathed out heavily, as if he were reminded to breathe or were revived. His head absentmindedly fell against Lance’s shoulder. 

“Hey man,” Lance whispered, “hey, it’s gonna be alright.”

Lance felt an immense amount of pressure. He couldn’t tell if it was literally the weight of his soaked clothes clinging to his skin or the responsibility of Keith that was unfolding before him.

It was honestly nerve-wracking for Lance to have Keith at this proximity, if it weren’t a fist in his face or something, but Lance relished in this new profound bonding moment. He chuckled when he remembered their first mission against Sendak in taking back the Lions, where he had never admitted to Keith of his appreciation. In fact, back then, it was easier to shut Keith down to give himself some traction, but now, he needed to put Keith before him. Lance wanted to reroute wherever Keith’s mind was right now. 

“You’ve been in here a while, man, c’mon you shouldn’t be in here.”

Keith shuffles, shakes his head before shifting his weight to the wall of the shower and turns his body to face Lance, eyes downturned.

_At least he’s being responsive_ , Lance thinks before he pushes the dark hair behind Keith’s ears, brushing his bangs towards the back of his head to reveal his dark eyes and lashes.

It was soft, so soft, and Lance melts a little bit at how fragile Keith is. 

“C’mon, let’s get out of here,” Lance says before petting his shoulder, “I’m not going anywhere without you until you budge, buddy.”

Keith slowly let go of his knees, suddenly grabbing hold of Lance’s wrist on his forearm. Lance flinches.

“Keith?” 

His grip is fairly strong, bony fingers gripping tightly. Keith is easy to underestimate, but Lance yields to him as his dark eyes search before settling on Lance’s lips, back and forth and undecided before Keith is suddenly leaning forward. Wet strands of hair fall to frame his face, and suddenly a hand is now gripping Lance’s collar, as if using Lance as leverage to bring his face to his. 

Within 2 seconds flat, this seemingly empty shell of a Keith seemed to regain enough strength and decisive force, and—

_ he’s kissing Lance. _

Lance is stunned for a moment, inanimate against Keith’s lips, which are annoyingly soft, wet, and Lance figures it’s not just from the shower. Even when spitting venom, teeth flashing in their fights, Lance always figured there was some facet of softness to Keith’s exterior. His lips were just that. Lance sinks, pulling back quickly.

“Whoa, hey,” he stutters, voice an octave or two higher, but who could tell the difference. Keith seems unfaded, eyes a tad blank but glossy. They’re more intimidating than need be which has Lance still tripping over his words like an infant, Keith’s deep eyes staring into the core of his embarrassment, “dude, w-what was that for?”

“Does it matter?” Keith says, voice weak but guarded as if he hadn’t made the offense. 

The sound of the water beating in the shower heightens Lance’s senses, his body sinking into the floor. “I— I mean not really. I just don’t know why— why you would do that.” Lance says to himself more than Keith; he wasn’t trying to incriminate him. He knows Keith is trying to figure something out.

Keith puffs a breath through his nose, fingers curling around Lance’s hand that he hadn’t noticed before; Keith is consciously making choices now. Lance feels adrenaline pumping, his stomach thrumming from what? Nerves? Anxiety? Titillation?

Keith leans forward again after a few moments. He knows he has Lance’s attention, doesn’t mean to abuse it, but his company is more than enough right now. 

The second kiss is rougher, more thought out, just like Keith always has been. Decisive, forward— Lance however, is unskilled, flighty, so he lets Keith take the lead. The dark haired boy is passionate, mindless and his teeth grate against Lance’s lower lip to which he winces.

“Sorry,” Keith half says against his lips, his breath warm. Lance shakes his head in dismissal, pulling Keith against him, holding him tighter to heighten the traction, and Keith’s muscles flex in acceptance under his hands in the advance. 

_ He’s all here_, Lance thinks guiltily, but for once he doesn’t question the other boy. They never agree, they fight, but for once in Lance’s unpredictable and precariously-lived life, he’s kissing  _ Keith Kogane. _Naked, in a shower, and he’s excited. He’s hated him before, still does in some ways, his one-time rival, but what other incentive to fall for something as exciting as this.

“Are you— sure— about this?” Lance says fadedly in between their lips separating and coming together again. Keith’s kisses are brutal, primitive as if he were void of something. Lance wanted to fill in as much as possible. Even before, he had this innate need to satisfy or impress Keith. Well, he had that need for everybody but Keith’s gravity was different. He didn’t just want to be the dumbass who Keith’d consistently get into altercations with. He wanted to be a peer, an equal, almost, not just a rival.

But right now, he just wanted to be anything Keith needed.

Keith grips the hem of Lance’s pants, pulling back to focus on what he was doing, which leaves a panting and babbling Lance.

“Hey,” Lance urges, “I don’t want you doing something right now that you won’t mean later b-because of the way you’re feeling rig—  _ whoa_,” Lance stutters with a perfunctory chuckle when Keith is suddenly unbuckling his belt, and now he’s questioning the sincerity of his own words, “I— I  _ don’t _ want to take advantage of you, Keith.”

” _Shut the hell up_ ,” Keith growls, dismissing Lance’s concern but Lance knows that for once he himself is right; Keith would never tell him that though.

Lance leans back, watching Keith’s bruised hands pull at his pants impatiently, and Lance finds himself helping, wiggling the jeans just below his ass and he realizes he’s half hard at this point. 

He can’t discriminate whether he’s a masochist for letting Keith dominate him, or if he’s a sadist for enabling Keith’s mindless endeavor in the wrong state of mind. Keith was probably as brainless right now as Lance was by default.

Keith’s breaths are staggering, desperate almost and Lance finds it impossible to breathe when Keith is suddenly palming him through his boxers. Lance lets his head fall back in disbelief, and he curses to himself at the sudden prick of pleasure threatening his body. He’s already dug his grave.

“Fuck, Keith,” he groans, “what the  _ hell _ are you doing?” 

Lance grabs hold of Keith’s torso, settling his fingers between Keith’s ribs. He can feel every muscle contract, expand as Keith breathes heavily. How taut his skin is— he’s so wet, traversable. Everything slides so easily. Keith responds by settling his lips between Lance’s jaw and shoulder, and he’s making his way on top of him like an anchor. It’s not like Lance planned on going anywhere either way, but he’s definitely planted. 

His hands halt on Lance, raking beneath Lance’s shirt to push it above his chest and suddenly he feels Keith press himself against him wholly, chest to chest— he can feel the tip of Keith’s dick pressing against his own navel, against his shaft, and he groans.

The best thing about Keith was how divergent his personality was. He was brutal, his words rough, his motions were hard and forceful, but every touch, the sheer contiguity of his lips and palms and skin were dangerously soft and enticing. The perfect paradox.

Lance feels Keith sigh into his neck at the pressure, fingers caressing his skin, pressing dimples into Lance’s body with his fingers as if mapping him out and showing Lance that he’s penetrated some sort of barrier, one never seen at that. Lance would be damned if this was a side any of the others had seen. He throws that inane thought away immediately, because,  _ of course not._

But he knew from the start something wasn’t right. Hell, maybe Lance could be his new outlet, he thinks inadvertently. The thought excites Lance if it’d always be like this to blow off steam.

Lance is torn between guilt and the influx of his desire to please Keith, but Keith is already panting into his collar, and Lance is pulled back to earth when Keith starts grinding down against him and Lance can hear it— he can hear Keith _moaning_ and the way his voice vibrates across his skin. 

He can’t hide the pathetic hitch in his throat as he unconsciously finds himself gyrating his hips up against Keith, relishing in the way the underside of Keith’s cock is literally sliding across his stomach, the shower water depleting any friction. Lance can only imagine how good it must feel for Keith. 

“Dammit Keith, you’re’so— fuck’n amazing, babe,” Lance moans, words slurring. He grips Keith’s ass with both hands, trapping as much pressure as possible.

Keith growls at the pet name, but Lance notes the contradicting way that he moans. He probably wasn’t _too_ objected. Keith works Lance’s boxers so that his dick is free, grinding against him completely— naked, nothing to hide.

He kisses Lance’s jaw before settling his lips into his collar again. Lance winces, a guttural moan escaping him when Keith sinks his canines into his skin. They’re sharper than they should be, which Lance burns the feeling into his brain and it’s a type of pain and assault different from the one he’d received to the sternum hours ago. This one has him biting his lip to keep from moaning too loud; the walls of the shower have every sound, every motion recoiling quickly off the wall and back to their ears, fueling the fire to a once tentative Lance but eternally passionate Keith.

“ _God_ ,” Keith finally mumbles, barely holding himself together. Lance can tell by the way his hips are jerking desperately that he’s aching to spill over. Lance wants to  see Keith fall apart just as much.

“I— I know,” Lance’s voice low and calloused, “fuck, why haven’t we been doing shit like this from the— from the damn  _start_ ,  Keith?!”

Fuck the training deck, fuck the fighting, but most importantly though, _fuck Keith_ , because in the long run, that’s what Lance hopes to be doing considering Keith started all of this. Lance has definitely decided that this is Keith’s new outlet. The way Keith presses himself against Lance desperately is practically an agreement.

“I—  _ dunno_,” Keith hitches, panting so profusely that he sounds at a loss of air. Lance knows he’s close, just about the peak, because so is he. 

“ _C’mon baby_ ,” Lance goads, “that’s it,  _ come for me._”

Keith’s hips snap forward in one last jerk, his thighs on either side of Lance’s hips squeezing insanely tight and Lance can feel him spill across his stomach. Keith is actually trembling as he curses, and Lance can decipher his own name in the mess that spills from Keith’s lips. 

His name is enough to make Lance unravel, and he practically white-knuckles Keith’s ass as he comes, his body tensing before releasing and Lance’s head falls back, defeated, wrecked.

Beneath all the tension, the haze of confusion and heat, Lance dismisses the urging wave of sudden emotion— a dangerous emotion that he doesn’t want to name, and lifts his head to look at Keith. Keith is already staring at him, eyes hooded, lips swollen. Lance assumes his state doesn’t look much different, but he has to admit that Keith looks impossibly more attractive now than Lance has ever cared to admit before.

Aside from their heavy panting, the shower water beating down on Keith’s back is the only sound that fills their senses. It easily washes away the mess on their bellies, and Lance absentmindedly caresses Keith before Keith shares one more kiss with the boy and plants his nose into the crook of Lance’s neck, exhausted. 

Lance wonders if he’s seen just about every side of Keith now, if he will share every part of himself or relapse and regress to a state where Lance is not needed again. He deeply hopes for the former, but for now, he closes his eyes and relishes in the heat of Keith’s body against his own.

**________________________ **

** [0015 HOURS] **

** ________________________ **

Keith’s hair is still wet, Lance running his fingers through it one last time before reserving his hands in his lap in conflicting emotions. They’re sitting in the control room, eyes occupied with stars that rival all of the thoughts in both of their heads.

“It’s fine...” Keith says quietly.

“I understand if you don’t want to talk about it,” Lance offers.

Keith shakes his head. A few seconds pass, seemingly minutes to the conflicted Lance, before Keith opens his mouth to say something, but his words die in his throat, embarrassed at his vulnerability again. 

Lance turns and looks at Keith, can only give a pseudo-smile, a small one really to show concern, but Keith knows all the facades the both of them carry. The ones that make them human, the ones that give them that undying need for pride and reservation, but Keith cracks open a door for once.

“I...” he starts, feeling Lance’s eyes burning into the side of his face, “I just,” he falters again, and Lance can really see, never really understood before until now, just how hard it was for Keith to actually open up. “I worry that... I’m not cut out for this. I can’t take care of you all and protect you like I need to.”

“Keith, we’d neve—“

“I’m just,” Keith adamantly interjects, “I’m not a leader.”

Lance recalls many years ago, where upon hearing such a thing, Lance would’ve had the irritating sting of resentment and jealousy to be in Keith’s position, to have his prowess, but he sees now that the circumstances are not what Keith had asked for. Keith couldn’t adapt, his hurt expanding in the vast space that they occupied, but it was suffocating almost. Lance was still convinced in having seen how competent he was, how much he outdid all the other cadets in Flight School— Shiro even. Even if he had hated him then, nothing else back then had fueled the fire besides jealousy. Lance no longer felt the same way, hasn’t really for years. He  _ knows _ Keith’s potential.

“But you beat Shiro’s record,” he says in an attempt to build an argument to prove Keith wrong, “I mean, I know he’s our leader but—“

“But I’m not  _ Shiro,_ Lance,” Keith finishes for him, because he’s an ass for not being able to notice his worth, because he can never let Lance be right.

“I’m nothing compared to him. I’ve fucked up so many times, botched so many missions. So many people have died—“

Keith stops himself abruptly before saying too much, but his little words have said more than enough for Lance. Despite the boundaries broken with Lance just hours ago, Keith builds his walls up again. 

Lance has nothing to fill the silence. He won’t force Keith to explain what he has yet to understand. Something he has still been picking apart and dissecting for what had probably been a while now.

Even if Keith won’t admit it, Lance figures that Keith has been thinking about Shiro all this time— missing him, his leadership, his brotherhood, his resilience, and Lance finds himself wondering if his presence is enough. Their connection is different. What Keith and Shiro have may never be what Keith and himself have, but he buries those thoughts before eluding himself.

For once, Lance finds himself stranded in Keith’s convoluting mind.

A huff of frustration escapes Keith, but Lance knows it has nothing to do with him this time, and what hurts Lance the most is Keith’s adamancy in denying himself the capacity to understand how...  _perfect_ he was. He knows that Keith harbors every ounce of guilt from his failures. He knows that Keith’s outbursts never truly mean to cause harm, even if they do sometimes, but Lance _knows_ the passion and respect Keith carries for his team. Being in an endless state of worry must be debilitating for him, and moving on is easier said than done, but maybe his company  _is_ what Keith needs right now. He doesn’t want to see Keith fail, he doesn’t want to be stagnant anymore. He wants to help Keith recognize that he does belong, is worthy, and that he shouldn’t validate himself through comparison.

He grabs hold of Keith’s hand before piping up a weak voice, “Look,” he says gently, so as not to permeate any more vulnerable emotions in Keith’s weak barrier, “just know that you’re not alone.”

Keith half-holds Lance’s hand in return, eyes still occupied on the stars. He never fully relinquishes his defenses to Lance, but Lance still admires Keith for his flaws, could never truly hold it against him, and wishes he had the words to put him at ease. But he knows that that is just who Keith is, a passionate and wandering soul and if Lance can pave a part of the route that Keith is unyielding to stray from, as loyal as he is, then Lance will. 

He doesn’t know the future, what lies ahead for the either of them, nor would he want to if ever given the chance, but he can only hope that they are in it together. 


End file.
